Open Doors
by Minako Nine
Summary: Watanuki will leave the door open as long as it takes. Doumeki will only enter if given the invitation. [WataDou]


This is a continuation of my last drabble. Somewhere in my head said 'Wata will leave the door open even if it will hurt him', because he want to let people in. Please don't get too confused about the pronouns; I'm pretty sure I made it so you can tell whose who. (I'm only ever referring to Wata unless it's the 'other one') I don't know what happened the previous day, but this is supposed to be Wata/Dou-ish; if you don't think it is, blame it on my lack of being able to write romance in any way shape or form. :D

**Open Doors**

_There is someone standing outside the door._

He wants to tell them that the door is unlocked.

It's been that way for a while. The keys he carries are useless; there is never any need for the locks. If a thief ever came, he'd invite them to tea and discuss what was worth taking in this dump.

The answer would be 'nothing'; but he'd likely never get the chance to discuss it anyway.

He doesn't quite have the courage to leave the door open, though. He simply leaves it unlocked, waiting for a time when someone will try and enter.

But the person outside has been there for what seems like a long time; he can hear the slight shifting every now and again, can feel the weight of the no longer empty space at the doorway. It tickles his curiosity. It even worries him, slightly. He wants this person to come in or go away; he was never patient enough to cope with the in-between.

He sits by it, waiting, listening for the tell-tale footsteps of someone walking away, waiting for the pressure to disappear of its own accord. He may hate the waiting, but the longer he doesn't act, the harder it is to.

He's fed up. He can't stand suspense. _I'll open the door and tell whoever it is to get lost._ He's made up his mind.

He opens the door, to be met with a hand, poised to knock. But he's not surprised.

Nonetheless, he asks, "What are _you_ doing here?" It doesn't carry the usual bite.

There's no answer, _not that I expected one, _and he moves aside. A silent invitation.

"Yesterday…" the other begins, but stops. Falters. "I was stupid."

"That doesn't even cover it." He sighs, like it doesn't matter as much as it does. "The door was unlocked, you know." He looks away, distracting himself with unimportant things. "You didn't have to stand there so long."

"I wanted to." _And I knew that's what you'd say._

"It annoyed me."

"You should've told me to leave." _Like I could ever do that._

He says nothing; but he hears them. The words left unsaid. It's aggravating.

For some reason, it takes his courage, but he speaks up. "Even if I did, you wouldn't, right?"

He's not looking, but he sees the nod, and wonders when it was they began to understand each other so inexplicably.

He makes tea. It keeps him distracted.

"Why isn't the door locked, then?"

He smiles, despite himself. "You know the answer to that."

"Doesn't mean I can't ask."

He wants to rage, and for things to be as they always were, but he's been struck by lightening; there's no going back. He has to make a decision before things can return to normal.

"People will rob you if you leave it like that."

He laughs a little, setting the tea on the small table. Another invitation. "I'll invite them in, and serve them tea," he replies, taking a sip.

"Like now."

"_Exactly_ like now."

"What if I take something?"

"There's nothing _worth_ taking. And you're not a thief, anyway!" Banter is safe, and he wants to slip into old habits.

"What if there _is_ something I want?"

"It's not worth taking." He sips again, trying to cover the slipping mask, steadying the shaky smile. _I knew it would come to this._

"Then why leave the door open?"

_There's a big difference between unlocked and open, moron. _But those habits are bad. There is to be no double standards.

"Because no one wants worthless things, so where's the need to lock them away?"

"'One man's trash is another man's treasure', as they say. You'll get hurt if you leave things as they are, anyway."

He snorts. He can't help himself. "Like you'd care."

"Don't say that." There's seriousness here. He'd wanted to inspire it. "You know I do."

"And don't _you_ say _that._ Not unless you mean it." _I'm already hurt. Don't make it worse._

_I left the door open for you, and you still wouldn't come in._

He gives up on the pretence of calmness. "I'm fed up of this." His voice is shaking, and he hates it. He hates his own weakness. "Either say whatever it is you mean to, or just go. Don't make this worse than what it is."

He doesn't look up. He rallies himself. He doesn't want to hear what's going to be said.

"I was stupid."

_And you're even better at running away than I am._

"I came to take it, if the offer still stands. This thing you call 'worthless'."

"There's nothing here you don't already have." He sighs, pours both cups of tea down the sink. It's long gone cold. "Thief."

"I wanted to know it was alright."

"I won't be able to forgive you, you know. You still…" and he can't finish, because he doesn't really mean it, and he knows that whatever is broken can easily be fixed.

He throws the door open, with so much force he feels as though it will shatter; he thinks it would not matter if it did. There was only one person he ever wanted to let in, anyway.

The other bridges the gap between them; and finally crosses the threshold.


End file.
